


Pale September

by Brithna



Series: Tidal Project [9]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brithna/pseuds/Brithna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Song 9 took me a while but I'll say - it was worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pale September

 

As she looked at the beautiful sight in front of her, Miranda was almost positive that if she glanced down right now, there would be a pile of armor at her feet that had been slowly and methodically removed over time. Logic told her that if she did not pick up the pieces, after a while they would all turn to rust. Logic told her she should try to pick the pieces up, put them on…see if they still fit. They wouldn’t though. Miranda knew this. Each piece was now bent, crumpled beyond recognition. If she was ever going to wear armor of any kind again…it would have to be re-made.  

Miranda finally looked down and the only thing she saw was her bare feet on a thick blanket of carpet. There was no armor…just this carpet, just this room, and just this woman in her bed.

Turning away from the bed where she had been watching Andrea sleep, Miranda quietly made her way to the large, expansive bedroom window that was draped in fine, white lace. It was billowing out, gently moving with the early morning breeze. She fingered the lace and pulled a panel back just enough to see out. The street was quiet and there was a slight chill in the air…it was late September after all.

The entire city was buzzing with change on the horizon. That was the thing about New York City. It might be a congested hell-hole most of the time but you could still feel the transformation coming from season to season. Miranda knew, especially now, that this year she would feel those changes more profoundly than ever.

A light gust of wind caused the curtains to engulf her and her hair blew back from her face. She took a deep breath…the air even smelled different today. Miranda wondered if her heightened sense of awareness this morning was actually because of the changing seasons or if it had more to do with the events of the previous evening. Perhaps a bit of both.

The wind picked up again and Miranda heard a slight rustle of sheets and blankets behind her. Andrea was sinking deeper into the covers no doubt seeking out warmth. Miranda shut the window as quietly as possible and Andrea’s slow and even breathing returned. Not wanting to leave the room but not wanting to lay back down either, Miranda opted for sitting on the edge of the bed. Andrea was more or less in the middle as was her habit so Miranda chose the side that Andrea was facing. She had to see her face. Miranda eased herself down on the mattress and held her breath for a moment in an effort to make her movements still and unnoticeable. It worked.

Miranda would never become accustomed to the peacefulness that spread across Andrea’s face not only as she slept, but also as she moved through life very much awake. Nothing could weigh her down. Nothing. Not daily hardships, not the hustle and bustle of the city, not the general aggravations of work, not the tedious and sometimes outright horrible force of nature know as Miranda Priestly…nothing. She was even un-phased by her own feelings of passion, and love and what it might mean to lose it all. It was as if Andrea had resigned herself to float along on the surface and handle life as it all came toward her. Nothing was unattainable. Nothing wasn’t worth the risk, and all those qualities in Andrea had at one time scared Miranda to death.

When this began, Miranda’s armor was all but intact and in perfect working order. All it was, in the beginning, was a look shared across the street. One look. Nothing significant. Nothing to raise any alarms over. It was only a small stone hitting her shield, causing a small dent. Nothing to be alarmed over at all.

That small stone became a full sized rock a week later when they saw one another again across that same street in almost the exact same position. This time Andrea crossed the yellow line of demarcation and came over to Miranda’s side. This time they spoke. Pleasantries, or what pleasantries Miranda could manage, were exchanged; which turned into a silent car ride to drop Andrea off at her apartment. It was innocent. It was the polite thing to do. Yet, since when had Miranda Priestly done the polite thing? Yes, it was more than a small stone, it was a rock and it caused far more than a small dent.

Things like this kept happening until one evening Miranda found herself at a quiet table in the back of Smith and Wollensky’s. She was not alone of course. Andrea was there across from her with a bag of artillery that ranged in size from small stones, to rocks and on to boulders even.

It was the way she smiled, her laugh, the way she used her hands when she spoke about something that excited her…it was all those things and more; a steady assault. Soon after, Miranda realized that she needed to fight back. Up until then she had let these attacks go unchallenged and that was no longer wise.

The next few times they saw one another across the street Miranda blatantly ignored her, yet made sure that Andrea had at least seen her briefly before retreating to the safety of her car. 

A little time passed and Miranda was almost sure that her _attacks_ had produced the desired effect. Like a fool she became comfortable in this…almost. There was without a doubt a part of her, a very small part of her, that regretted her actions; but even so – she knew it was the right thing to do. Her armor must be protected at all cost. It had taken too much time to build.

Yet, Andrea, who viewed nothing as unattainable of course, found a way to catapult herself straight over the first set of walls of what Miranda considered one of her best lines of defense: The Elias-Clarke building itself. As luck would have it, Andrea’s pass was never revoked and she used this tool to gain entrance and one day Miranda found herself being asked to lunch. She would have fired Emily if Emily had been at her desk. As it was she fired the new girl instead; who had allowed Andrea to simply slip right through the doors and into Miranda’s inner sanctum.  Miranda did so right there in front of Andrea too and the woman didn’t bat a _single_ eye lash over it. Clearly Andrea had known this would happen and had not cared one bit about the consequences.

That alone was a major blow to Miranda; perhaps the worst one yet. It showed Miranda that Andrea would stop at nothing…that she very well might get whatever she was fighting for, or at least die trying. Miranda had never had such a well matched opponent in her life.

Deciding to relent, just this once, Miranda went to lunch anyway then straight home to strategize, to hammer out the dents, to seal the cracks in her armor. It was easy to see that the repair bills would be steep.

 ‘Just this once’ proved to be a lie. There would be lunches, dinners, and then finally an impromptu dinner at the townhouse. Make no mistake about it though, in between all this Miranda fought back in all her practiced ways. Spiteful remarks, meaningless rants that at one time would have reduced the other woman to tears; she canceled dinners unexpectedly and sometimes simply did not show up at all.

Yet, every time Miranda launched such attacks she was met with formidable opposition. Andrea took the remarks and rants with ease and as for the cancellations and no-shows; she would either e-mail or leave Miranda a kind voicemail to say that she hoped everything was alright and wished Miranda a good evening.

This impromptu dinner at the townhouse would produce the beginning of the end. The dinner was a shared one with the twins and Miranda never would know what possessed her to do it, to involve them in this game, this battle of wills. But involve them she did and they enjoyed it far more than she anticipated. She’d hoped the girls would bring their own artillery to the table but they did _not_. Not one time did they come to her aid and proved to be sorry land owners in Miranda’s kingdom.  

By the end of the evening Miranda was done and ready to have Andrea out of the house. It was all too much for her. Upon escorting the young woman to the door and dryly wishing her a safe journey home, Miranda felt herself being surrounded on all sides by two lanky yet strong arms around her neck. A hug. She was being hugged.  While it was an unusual tactic, it was effective in stunning Miranda. She did not move, she did not return the embrace. This was not the worst though. The worst came seconds after with Andrea’s arms still around her when she said ‘ _Don’t say anything mean, just let me hug you. I’m not going to hurt you, Miranda_.’

It was then that Miranda felt the _paldrons_ untie themselves from behind her neck and slide to the floor resulting in a deafening crash. This is the pieces of armor that fit over the shoulders and arms. These were the first pieces to go and as hard as she might try, Miranda was never able to get them to fit correctly again.

The _gauntlets_ , worn to protect the hands, would be the next to go. After the paldrons were destroyed, Miranda’s efforts were doubled but were met with the same force and determination as before. Andrea never once relented or weakened her attack. Her next move was to invite the twins to a movie and oh, what a well-played move it was. They of course were overjoyed and Miranda was hard pressed to say no, so she allowed it. What she had not anticipated was being invited along. Andrea waited until the last moment to ask her. Well-played move indeed.

In fact Miranda was so caught off guard that she said ‘yes’ without even realizing it. This new addition thrilled the twins and again they did _not_ come to her aid. In the middle of said movie, Miranda still to this day did not remember what it was called, a cell phone rang out and each of them reached down to their respective bags to shut off the offending noise. It turned out to be Andrea’s but their hands brushed, lingered there…then intertwined. Miranda felt the gauntlets slip off and hit the floor in another deafening crash.

The twins interrupted by turning around and whispering for them to ‘shut the phone off already’. Once the phone was finally shut off they sat back up in their seats and since the armor covering Miranda’s hands was gone, there seemed to be no legitimate reason to not hold Andrea’s hand again. So she did. Miranda promised herself that tomorrow she would sit down and regain her focus and draw up a new plan of action.

Her plan was a dinner, a nice evening in town with as much privacy as one could find on a Friday night in New York City. Miranda would let her down easy. Andrea would be less likely to fight back if they were in public. She tried to explain but much of the time Miranda was severely distracted by the dress Andrea wore. It was not only low cut but it was equally short, yet not in a cheap, vulgar way. Her hair was up in an elegant twist, exposing her throat and it was as if she was saying ‘ _here I am_ ’, in all sorts of irritating ways. The combination of it all made Miranda weak in the knees.

The _quisse, greave,_ and the _sabaton_ , these are the sections of armor that are placed on the legs and feet, were all stripped from her that night and dinner lasted far longer than need be to allow Miranda time to regain her strength.

After this, Miranda never could catch up with Andrea. She was always one step behind and Miranda Priestly had never been one step behind anybody before. Not ever.

Miranda’s shining helmet, or _sallet helmet_ as it is sometimes called because of the ridges at the top, was the next to fall. It was at an opera – _Carmen_ to be exact. A ridiculous opera and Miranda had no idea what she’d been thinking, but she had these tickets and…well. Her defensives were weak.

It started just as that dinner had…with the dress. It was a Vivian Westwood…deep red, strapless. Miranda had never been at such a loss for words to describe a dress in her life so like a fool she simply told Andrea that the dress was merely ‘acceptable’.

That night, introductions to acquaintances could not be avoided. Miranda had thought little of this in her initial invitation but now that they were here there was little help for it. It wouldn’t do to introduce her as her ‘ _ex_ -assistant’ when in all honesty Miranda could hardly remember those days now. So, she was just ‘Andrea’ and nothing more, nothing less, nothing but an equal.

With her equal she held hands and watched Andrea become swept up in the innocence of never having seen this particular opera before. Who doesn’t cry the first time they see it? At its close Andrea wiped her eyes one more time and before they stepped out of their box she turned and asked ‘ _how do I look_?’ What else was there to do? Miranda took off the helmet made from polished steel and kissed her opponent gently on the lips and proceeded to go one step further and confirm that yes, she looked beautiful, more beautiful than was logically possible.

The dates, the kissing, all of it, went on without hardly any words being exchanged on the matter. It was just happening around them and yes, Miranda still made attempts now and again to keep hold of her armor but soon she would lose one more piece.

Around May she made a trip to Italy for a string of meetings and conferences. The girls begged Miranda to forgo the nanny and have Andrea stay with them instead. Andrea of course readily agreed simply happy that they wanted her to be with them in the first place.

Unbeknownst to everyone else, it was always hard for Miranda to leave her children behind for work. Whether it be Paris fashion week or something else entirely, it was hard. This time it seemed to be much harder but Miranda chose to push that feeling away with her shield. Surely not. It couldn’t have been because of this woman who had worked her way into Miranda’s very center. Of course not.

All week it felt like a slab of marble was sitting on her chest, wearing away at her polished breastplate. Besides her shield, it was her last line of defense. To know it was being tampered with was shaking Miranda to the core. This could not be. She wasn’t supposed to come to need Andrea. It was never supposed to go that far. Yet it had.

By the end of the week Miranda couldn’t take the pressure of that slab of marble anymore and canceled the last day of her business. It could just go on without her. Without calling anyone in New York, Miranda boarded a private jet for home. Only when she arrived around one in the morning did she call Andrea and inform her that she was on her way to the townhouse.

What met her when she arrived broke her breastplate right in half, producing the loudest, most deafening crash yet. Really Miranda had not expected Andrea to meet her at all but as soon as the door to the cab opened, the door to the townhouse did too. Andrea came out in nothing but a robe…barefoot and wrapped Miranda in an embrace that lasted until the cabdriver had successfully hauled her entire set of luggage into the doorway. He muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘get a room’ so that’s exactly what Miranda did. Without asking how Andrea felt about the subject, Miranda left the luggage in the foyer and quietly they made their way up to Miranda’s bedroom.

In that night Miranda found a comfort and strength that she did not know existed. It was all consuming yet at the same time it wasn’t enough. Being with Andrea like that only left her wanting more…which would likely kill her one day. Knowing this, Miranda kept her shield polished. No further defenses could be lost to this women or it would mean devastation and total ruin.

One of the best ways to do this was to never, ever allow herself to say those three words that meant so much. Miranda had never said them to anyone but her children and really meant it anyway so why in God’s name should she start now? It would leave her wide open….beyond defenseless.

For several months this went on. Never once did Miranda tell Andrea that she loved her but oh, Andrea certainly let those words spring from her own lips at any opportunity that presented itself. The oddest thing was that the first time she officially informed Miranda of said love; she also informed Miranda that she did _not_ need to hear it in return. This baffled Miranda and was definitely a hitch in her plan because Andrea’s reason behind it hurt; which was something Miranda did not know she could feel. Or maybe it was guilt? Or both? Whatever it was Miranda felt it and held up her shield against it. ‘ _I don’t want you to say it Miranda. If you say it now…you’ll run away from me and I might not be able to catch you. I don’t want you to say it…_ ’

That _hurt_. Andrea had Miranda’s number. She knew exactly what would happen and had set about laying a secure foundation to protect Miranda against her own fears. Andrea was making it _okay_ for Miranda to be cold, to use her defenses. She was letting Miranda know that she would still be here regardless.

So it went on like that with Miranda never telling Andrea how much she was truly loved and needed, all the while Andrea was telling her that very thing every day. Well…Miranda did find _one_ way to say those things without actually _saying_ them. She simply asked Andrea to move into her home.

When asked, just as Miranda had already anticipated, Andrea said no. Miranda thought it might be because of those three words the woman had yet to hear but Miranda was quickly told otherwise. It wasn’t that at all. It was Andrea’s fear of the press and the reaction of the girls. She did not care about her own name in the paper but was worried for the three of them. And last but not least she told Miranda ‘ _I have a home in you no matter where I live_.’ This warmed Miranda up like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

A ‘family’ meeting was held, it would be the first of many, and the girls were concerned more with the idea of eating Andrea’s homemade lasagna more often than they were with the press. Miranda confessed her love for the lasagna too and declared that the press would say and do what they wanted and so would Miranda. Whether they figured it out or not was something Miranda found irrelevant. That seemed to be enough for Andrea and within one weekend she was moved.

The press of course had their week or _three_ of fun but soon grew tired of the newest celebrity couple that went out to eat once or twice a week and filled their weekends with soccer games and movies and work. It was decided that they were just another ‘boring lesbian couple’ and the press ran off to the next big thing. All the while, Miranda’s shield was fast becoming tarnished and brittle.

It would all come to a head this week. Right off from Monday Miranda could tell the week was going to be a long, hard one. The girls were finally getting busy with the new school term and settling down into the homework routine was one battle after another, then there was work of course. Irv was in the mood to fight this week and Andrea wasn’t fairing much better, fighting for a series of articles that had real merit and deserved to be published in their entirety. Everyone was tired and moods were in a general state of _horrible_.

By the time Miranda got around to tucking in the girl’s last night, Andrea was shut up in the bathroom soaking in as much hot water as the tub would hold. She had not eaten dinner and Miranda almost asked her twice if she wanted something but didn’t. If Andrea wanted to eat then she would. The more Miranda doted on her, the more scars her shield sustained so Miranda tried her best to steer clear of such activities. But it was more than that. Not only had she not eaten, she’d hardly said two words since Miranda had come home. That at least Miranda had called her on and was reassured that Andrea was ‘ _just tired…rough day…work sucked_.’ Miranda knew all too well what that felt like. She also knew what it felt like to wish for someone to just hold you at the end of it all and know that you were safe and loved.

So…Miranda gave in. But only a little. She was going to do just enough to get by. Sure that Andrea was only half way through her soak, Miranda went down to the kitchen and procured a glass of wine for herself and two vile and cheap Coors Light’s for the tired girl drowning herself in the bathtub upstairs.

She didn’t bother to knock and once Andrea saw the beer she didn’t seem to mind Miranda’s company in the least. Quietly, she sat on the floor by the tub and kept the conversation light and free from topics of work. Miranda knew that when Andrea was ready she would unload all that ailed her. Soon the beer and hot water did their work and she told Miranda all about her boss ‘ _from hell_ ’, which Miranda found hilarious because she envisioned that title was reserved for her alone. It appeared that Mr. Greg Wilson really was an unmitigated pain in the ass. Miranda made a mental note to do something to quicken his demise. He and Irv would make a great couple and she told Andrea so which almost caused her to drop her precious beer right into the tub.

A while later it was revealed that Andrea had received a call from her grandmother that day. Parents and grandparents weren’t a topic that was brought up often in this house but then again it was also something Miranda never once asked about in an effort to not get too involved. She decided to give in here too and did indeed ask questions. It turns out that the only grandparent Andrea had left was quiet possibly reaching the end of her journey. This produced some tears from Andrea and almost… _almost_ from Miranda too because she hated to see Andrea cry and this reminded Miranda of the losses she’d experienced in her own life.

A quiet fell over the bathroom after this topic had drained itself out and Miranda was at a bit of a loss as to what to say next. She’d never really been good at this…being supportive. Couple that with her desire to stay at an arm’s length from this woman that had a hold of her heart with both hands and it was hard to know what to do. After all, she’d already given in twice tonight. How far could she go and remain intact?

Suddenly she was asked to turn the lights out. Miranda questioned this and was met with a ‘ _sometimes in the dark we have some pretty good talks, don’t you think_?’ This was true and it always mystified Miranda. Countless meaningful conversations had been had in the dark before they fell asleep. It might be about anything in the world but it always seemed easier for Miranda…maybe both of them, to open in up in the darkness.

Miranda gave no further questions and turned the light out, carefully making her way back to her place on the floor. For a bit they talked about work some more. Miranda held forth on Emily’s latest antics and her apparent infatuation with Serena. Ironically, this wasn’t news to Andrea. Miranda wondered what _else_ was going on in her office that she had no idea of. Perhaps it was better that she not know.

To get more comfortable Miranda turned and leaned against the tub but still faced Andrea who was taking care of her second beer. Silence fell back over them while she finished it but soon Miranda heard the bottle being set on the floor and then she heard Andrea lean back against the tub again.

“Hey.” Andrea whispered and Miranda felt the tips of her wet fingers on her arm. She reached out and their hands met on the side, fingers lacing together for the first time that evening.

“Yes?” Miranda had absolutely no idea why there was a golf ball in her throat right now but it was certainly there.

“Thank you…thank you for coming in here. For the beer.” She chuckled and Miranda knew Andrea was rolling her eyes at her own silliness.

“You’re welcome. I just…I thought you could use it.”

“Miranda, you’re very sweet you know. I always knew you were but I love you for showing that to me. It means a lot. Especially on days like today.”

Miranda could feel her shield buckle. “Well I just…you know I’m not completely unfeeling. You are…” Miranda didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. It was like Andrea was trying to save her from herself again.

“I know Miranda…I know you love me.”

Miranda felt her heart and her hand squeezed all at the same time. How was it always so easy for her? “Andrea, how is it so easy for you? To be with me? To say the things you do?”

“It just is Miranda. The hardest part was figuring out what I wanted. Once I figured that out…the rest was all downhill to my goal.”

“Downhill doesn’t sound very good.” Indeed.

“I don’t mean ‘downhill’ as in a bad way. I mean it was just that I’d gotten over the hard part. The hard part was done and all that was left was to get what I wanted. I knew I could do it.”

Now Andrea’s hand was resting on top of hers, holding it gently. “What is it exactly that you wanted?”

“Just you. Just you, just like this. I knew we could get here and you proved me right.”

Miranda let her head drop back a little. It was happening and it felt like Miranda couldn’t stop it. Her shield was bending under the tremendous force of Andrea’s will. “I proved you right? I hardly see that as the truth. You’ve just…this was all…you.” There was no other way to say it because Miranda knew in her heart that if Andrea hadn’t been so strong, so relentless, that Miranda may very well have never found herself sitting here on her bathroom floor in the dark.

“It was _us_ but I’ll let you deny it forever if you want. It doesn’t matter.”

It did matter. She was just saying that so Miranda didn’t get upset or clam up or…worse. She was afraid of losing Miranda, which was plain to see. “You put up a good front, Andrea.” As soon as the words left her lips she felt Andrea flinch and move her hand. Miranda reached out in the dark and grabbed it. “Don’t.” So Andrea let her hand remain. “You’ve fought so hard for me yet you allow me to get away with unspeakable things…”

“Miranda…baby, I’m not going to force you or ask you to say things you can’t say. And hey, I wasn’t alone in this. You kept it going as much as I did and you know it. You’ve just got more class than I do…” She laughed and patted Miranda’s hand. “It was all what I wanted…slow…easy.”

“You thought so?”

“I did and I do. I like what we have Miranda. This is what I wanted…no glitz, no sparkle, just you and me and those two red heads upstairs. I wanted a family and that’s exactly what I got. And you know what else?”

“What?”

“I know that you love me. You show me every day. I’m not going to profess that I know exactly why you won’t tell me that in words but honestly it really is okay.”

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay…because if it was _okay_ then why was Andrea crying? She probably didn’t think Miranda could tell because it was dark but it was clearly seeping through her voice. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t make me turn the light on.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Her voice was breaking just a little more and this couldn’t go on. Miranda couldn’t allow her to sit here in water like this…needing something that Miranda should have already given. Her heart.

“Get up darling. You’re done here.” Miranda stood up, turned on the light over the vanity and grabbed a towel. When she turned, Andrea was still sitting there staring at the wall and wiping her eyes. “Come…get up, please. Let me dry you off.” There was no more argument but as she rose up out of the water Miranda could tell she was reluctant about where this conversation was going to go. Miranda helped her step out of the tub then wrapped one towel around her, using another towel to dry off her legs. She glanced up once and could see Andrea looking down at her and was reminded of the words uttered in their first embrace. Andrea had said ‘ _Don’t say anything mean, just let me hug you. I’m not going to hurt you, Miranda.’_  

Miranda stood up again and enveloped her in a mirrored embrace from that night. She hung on tight and said “I’m such a fool, Andrea. Such a fool.” Andrea tried to pull out of her arms but Miranda wouldn’t let her. “You’re afraid of losing me…I can tell. That’s why you are always so accepting of what I think I _can_ and _cannot_ say…isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

Finally, Andrea rested her head on Miranda’s shoulder and Miranda rubbed her back, still not letting go. “I know that you love me, Andrea. You show me that…you tell me that. Every day you tell me that, and I know you say you do not care and that it does not matter. But it does, it’s unacceptable for me to lie to you darling…to not tell you how I feel.”

“I know how you feel already.”

Miranda shook her head and let go of the woman only to take her hand and lead her to the bed, turning out all the lights along the way. “You _think_ you know…but you don’t.” She said softly as she pulled back the covers and removed the towel that was wrapped tightly around Andrea’s body. “I’m going to show you…and tell you…like I should have a long time ago.”

Miranda pushed her down onto the bed gently and removed her own robe and night shirt that just happened to be one of Andrea’s many t-shirts. No one could ever find out Miranda Priestly wore those old ratty things to bed. Not ever.

Quietly she went over to her side of the bed and got in, promptly scooting toward the middle where Andrea was waiting for her. Always in the middle. Once she reached Andrea, Miranda pulled her in close and wrapped both arms around her again.

After thinking about it for a minute or two more Miranda realized just how easy it would be and how it really was acceptable to love and be loved. It could happen. It was possible. Maybe she just had to change like a season…from summer to fall? Maybe she just needed to let go of the armor?

“Andrea…I love you, darling. I love you…I love you…”

By morning Miranda would have whispered that to Andrea about fifty times, maybe more - before, after, during and in between making love to her in every way asked. Somewhere in that time, Miranda’s beloved shield that she had been holding for so many years finally broke and landed on the floor at her feet.

Now here she was, sitting on the side of the bed looking at the woman who had taken it all, stripped her bare, slowly and methodically, leaving Miranda little choice but to just let it happen. She knew that no matter what, no matter the reasons that might come, Miranda was never going to be able to have that armor re-made. It just wasn’t possible.

THE END


End file.
